


What Forever Entails

by narath



Series: tiny moments [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 15:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21273347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narath/pseuds/narath





	What Forever Entails

The bards and the poets, the ones straight from Antiva; the city of lovers and flowers and all good things surrounding, they always spoke about love.  
The words were beautifully put together, something he adored, the prose always laid to rest in the back of Zevrans head to be brought forth whenever his eyes landed on the Grey Warden.  
It seemed as if a certain action provoked a certain sentence, a word or even a full paragraph; they cleaned their sword after battle and Zevran thought about lovebirds preening each other in the peachy light of dusk.  
They laughed and Zevran recited, word for word, the poem about the joy of life, the light, the singing and dancing to the beat of a heart.  
The strangest part, however, was the way the poets and the bards spoke about love; this unfathomable force so massive and impossible, something elusive and all-inclusive, feeling it all at once and never the same twice.

It was frightening, truly, the shivers that ran down his spine whenever the warden looked exhausted or came back to camp with a new blooming scar. The scars were beautiful, it was not that, but the sentence; that love never feels the same twice, that scared him and sent him into a spiral of despair.  
If it doesn’t feel the same if it has already happened once, if it’s not this massive and grand; how could he live another day if the Warden one day never came back?  
And it was that he guessed when he swore to always protect them; that love, it is huge and tiny at the same time, a speck of dust that stirs when they rise together from bed in the morning.  
It is grand, yes, in the way his heart expands whenever they perform the smallest of actions; and yet it fits perfectly in the palm of his hand as he laces his fingers in theirs.

He almost laughs at when he thinks about love being elusive, it is clear and dense, if it were an object it would most definitely be the tallest of all the majestic mountains.  
All-inclusive, he scoffs, reminding himself of how he gets so angry, fuming and flailing, whenever the warden doesn’t take care of an infected wound or doesn’t sleep properly.  
And, Maker’s breath, all the misplaced objects or when they run off alone and, oh, that time they did the laundry and left the soppy wet clothes to rot instead of drying, that made him sigh and click his tongue from frustration.  
Sometimes they would yell at each other, chests puffed in persuading pride but even then there was a glimmer of magic; this love that the bards and the poets wrote and sang about, the beauty in a sad stroke of a violin or the loud crack of thunder.  
One thing that he could agree on, having his Grey Warden sleeping peacefully on his chest now, all the poems and songs he could remember swirling together; was that love, this love, the only love; it truly was all things all at once, tiny, huge, wide and tall.

And for the first time in his life, a born killer left to live another day; he learned a new meaning for the word forever.


End file.
